


Missing Person

by lar_laughs



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: AU of original timeline, Community: fandom_stocking, F/M, Post Avengers (Movie), death fix, science is cool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 14:31:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lar_laughs/pseuds/lar_laughs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is nothing that Steve wants more than to have Peggy back in his life.  He’s given up on the dream until Bruce and Jane think they have a way to get him back on a timeline he can live with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing Person

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Justice_Turtle (Curuchamion)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curuchamion/gifts).



> When I read _Fixfic for character death_ and _Happy endings_ , I was lost. I had to write this fic. I didn’t know how I was going to get Steve and Peggy together again or if you even liked the idea of Steve and Peggy together. I only knew that I HAD to write this fic.

**2012**  
Whenever Steve wakes up in the middle of the night, his breath coming fast as his body struggles to figure out the difference between reality and dreamscape, his hands feel stiff with cold. He knows they shouldn’t. It’s only a dream, after all. His muscles shouldn’t cramp as if he’d pushed his hands into a bucket of melted snow right before bed but he can’t convince them otherwise.

As nightmares go, it’s not bad. It’s better than screaming her name until his throat is raw like he had in those early days. He’d quit sleeping for awhile, for fear of waking everyone nearby since he wasn’t sure how much the walls of SHIELD barracks kept secret.

Is it ridiculous, he asks himself, that he’s mourning a woman who may not have cared that he never came out of the ice? She lived a life without him, as full and complete as if Captain America had never existed for her.

He’s made a conscious decision not to go searching out her history. The problem is that her history is now his past and he desperately needs to fill in the holes of his lost decades. He just wishes he can get through the specifics of a major historical event without wondering how she had dealt with it. The Vietnam conflict, Watergate, Marilyn Monroe, the moon landing. He would gladly trade Erskine’s improvements to be able to sit beside Peggy one last time and talk to her about her life.

But he can’t trade this Super Soldier body and she probably wouldn’t have wanted to talk to him after the way he left her. He’d been raised better than to promise someone something and then to renege like that.

His pain is becoming a weakness. He’s able to shove it to the side as he let’s Fury draw him into the battle against the Chutari but then he stands amidst the wreckage of Manhattan and his heart is heavy. How many people lost their lives today regardless of what he and the rest of the team had done? How many new Steves mourned for their Peggys?

“You okay?” a recently de-hulked Bruce asks as he comes over to see what it is that Steve’s looking at and discovers that it’s really only the hauntings of his mind that he’s seeing.

Steve lets out a deep breath as he struggles with emotions that are useless. No tears are going to build the walls up again. No sighs are going to pave the streets. He can let the depression swamp him or he can get his feet moving and his hands helping.

“Yeah,” he replies, clapping Bruce on the back as he tries to find a smile and fails.

Bruce nods, his own smile full of pain. “If you need anything...” and he lets his voice trail off, as if he’s disgusted that he said anything because who can he help with the mess that his life is?

For the first time since waking up from the ice, Steve figures he’s found someone who understands what he’s going through. That squares his shoulders more than anything else because shared pain is halved. It’s something where he previously had nothing.

***

“Time machine.” Clint downs the alcohol in his glass and sets it back down near Tony, who is current keeper of the bottle. He’s more than a little tipsy but doing surprisingly well for as much alcohol as he’s drunk. Of the four people drinking, he’s the worse for wear but Tony’s got much more experience with this much liquor and no one is actually seeing Natasha drink anything even though her glass keeps coming back for more.

Bruce shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure we don’t have the proper technology to get something like that to work.”

“Doctor Who’s got one,” Clint counters, as if his argument is now airtight. “He can travel in time _and_ space. We get ourselves one of those, Steve can get back to Peggy.”

Everyone looks back at Bruce who, thanks to the alcohol he’s not drinking, is the voice of reason at the table. He’s also the one who insisted that everyone watch at least one episode of Doctor Who with him, knowing full well that one episode was all that it would take. That means he’s the one to blame for Tony’s new obsession with bow ties (because bow ties are cool) and Clint tinkering with his modified-sonic arrows until he has something that is a very good approximation to a sonic screwdriver.

“I can’t-”

“You can. You just have to try.” Tony’s got a smile tugging at his lips, enjoying this conversation just because it’s keeping Bruce at the table. Normally, he wanders off somewhere between the bottle arriving at the table and the first glass being poured. Not that the Avengers get drunk all the time, mind you. They just like to relax now and again. 

Also, Tony thinks it’s hilarious trying to get Steve drunk. It’s not going to happen but he tries and Steve finds himself letting Tony try, as if it’s not the stupidest, most self-destructive thing he’s started doing these days. 

Sitting in this group, with a bottle open on the table, Steve’s reminded of the Howling Commandos. As he lets the alcohol burn the back of his throat, bringing a tinge of heat to his cheeks, he can almost hear Gabe laughing at one of Dugan’s ribald jokes. If he closes his eyes, he wonders if he’ll catch a whiff of Jacque’s horrible French cigarillos. Peggy doesn’t like the way they smell and he doesn’t want the smoke to stink up his clothes because...

“Cap?”

Steve opens his eyes as Natasha shakes him, not entirely gently which is a good sign that he’d fallen asleep at the table. He looks around the table at the other four, all of them staring at him with pity. “I said her name, didn’t I?” he asks, having seen this look before.

“We’ve all got people we miss.” Clint’s mournful drawl earns him a none-too-gentle cuff from Natasha which he might have dodged if he wasn’t staring into his empty glass, finding his own demons and ghosts closing in with each alcoholic vapor. “What?”

“This isn’t your therapy session,” she reminds him through clenched teeth.

“It’s okay. I should... go.” Nothing anyone says keeps Steve in his chair. He heads down three levels to the well-equipped gym, asking Jarvis (politely, of course, because even an AI likes to be treated with respect) to keep the door locked to anyone else that might try to get in. He knows he won’t be able to keep either Clint or Natasha out if they’re of a mind to get in but he’s certain they understand his need for privacy better than anyone else.

For an hour, he punishes the bags for his own foul mood. An idea comes to him at the end of the hour - maybe he should stop trying to find a way back to Peggy and his old life and figure out how to live this new life without pain. He leans against the wall, sliding down until he can rest his forehead on his knees. Tears and sweat mingle and slide off his skin with each sob.

Forgetting Peggy is its own kind of torture. It’s going to happen sooner rather than later. He cries just as hard for the fact that someday he won’t miss her with each breath.

***

Natasha’s the one to bring him the news. He thinks, at first, that she was sent because she’s the token female but then he realizes that place in the group is more likely to be taken up by Pepper. Or, for that matter, Clint. Not one to offer a shoulder to cry on or soft words, she lays it all out on the table.

“Bruce has been talking to Thor’s Jane. Now that she’s fairly sure she’s got the bridge between here and Asgard stable, she’s been giving your problem some thought.”

“My problem?” he asks, just in case they aren’t talking about the same thing and he shouldn’t be worried about another weakness.

“Peggy.” Her name is clipped coming from Natasha’s mouth. It’s the way someone else might say _syphilis_ or _train wreck_. “Jane thinks she can send you back.”

“I sense a _but_ coming after that sentence.”

“We’re not sure we can get you back.”

Steve feels like she’s just punched him in the face without any warning. He even puts a hand up to test the integrity of the skin on his cheek. “Why would I want to come back?”

Now it’s her turn to look shell-shocked, her eyes softening with pain before turning to chips of granite. “Because we’re here. We’re a team.”

For someone who initially acted like she wanted nothing to do with the lot of them, Natasha has taken to the Avengers like a stray swan to a pack of ducks. She still goes off on her own, as if she forgets, from time to time, that she’s part of a group, but Clint says that’s pretty par for the course. Natasha has very fluid ideas of what a partnership looks like. Since Clint’s okay with it, the rest of them try to be, too, but it still feels like she considers herself only half a member.

In this moment, Steve is ready to revoke his membership in the group. That they think he’d actually pick them over Peggy is laughable, if not insulting. “You can still be a team without me.”

Her laugh is a harsh sound in the silence after his words. “Without you, we’re just randomness. Without you, we’re right back to what we were doing, trying to make a difference one act at a time. Together, we’re a cord of many strands.” As she talks, her accents sharpens until each word is cloaked in fur against the harsh Siberian winds. “Together, we make this world better.”

He still sees the many things they do wrong. No matter how hard they try, they never get there in time to truly help everyone. Someone is always standing on the sidelines, crying over the loss of a home, a loved one, a life. He’s only seeing black and white, these days.

“She makes me a better person.”

“And you’ll outlive her again. Have you thought of that?”

Before he can answer, she’s back out the door as if there had never been anyone here in the first place.

***

He knows, from the stifled conversations when he enters rooms lately, Jane and Bruce must be close to a conclusion with their research. They won’t let him in on any of the particulars other than to reassure him that they’re taking extra time to ensure that the trip won’t kill him. He’s walking a knife’s edge of tension, waiting for the pronouncement of conclusion.

This entrance is different than the ones before it. Clint’s smiling the dopey smile he gets when he’s not sure if he should be happy or sad, cancelling out Natasha’s dark frown. Tony straightens his bow tie (Steve hopes they stop being cool sometime soon because it’s getting irritating to watch Tony tie one on each day, no matter what he’s wearing) as he steps forward, content to take the spotlight off the two scientists who are in the midst of a rather heated conversation.

“The brains tell me this is all but done. They’d like you to know that the odds of you dying are still rather astronomical, even with my help on the equations. Think you can beat a thirty percent?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Steve glances over at Natasha but she looks away, her hand in Clint’s spasming into a tighter grip. “This is what I want.”

“Then, my friend, you’ll need to sit here.” He points to a chair pulled out away from the dining table. It seemed all too easy but he’s learned that Jane went for the easy because it was always the cleanest solution. “Comfortable?”

Steve tries not to fidget, decides to pick up a current gripe they’ve been tormenting Tony with lately. “As much as I’ll ever be, considering this chair is a sin against nature.”

His words gets out a wild peal of laughter out of Clint, who picks up the argument without any other prodding. It’s a joy to watch Clint and Tony snark at each other, both of them comfortable in their friendship now so that the slings and arrows of conversation fly around the room, falling silently to the floor instead of landing anywhere important.

One of Jane’s cool hands slides up his neck before he even realizes she’s standing beside him. “I don’t know if this will hurt. If it does, I apologize. Have a good trip, Captain.”

Since she refuses to call him anything but his undeserved title, Steve just gives her a small smile. Bruce shakes his hand. “Good luck, Steve. I hope you get exactly what you want.”

Everything else drifts away as a light shines down on him. It makes him the kind of warm he hasn’t been since stepping out of Erskine’s machine, muscles bulging. The faint scent of jasmine wafts toward him, as if Peggy’s just walked by. He let’s out a sigh, the feeling of coming home starting to build in him, and then begins to scream as he’s ripped to pieces and melded back together again.

***

**2012... again**  
Steve opens his eyes as he feels the chair begin slip out from under him. He windmills his arms but it doesn’t do any good. “I hate these chairs,” he growls as he accepts the hand held out in an attempt to help. “You really need to get an interior designer.”

“I had three,” Tony drawls as he rights the man. “One of whom was your daughter, if I remember correctly. If you wouldn’t tilt back on them, they wouldn’t fall.”

“Right. Whose turn was it to get through the boring part as quickly as possible?”

“That would be me, Director Rogers.” Jane Foster, one of the new scientists, raises her hand. Since she looks barely old enough to be out of college, he’s sure it’s because she’s not out of the habit yet. “I’m sorry it’s so boring. I think the possibility of a pathway to distant galaxy is rather exciting, myself.”

“As do I.” Peggy puts her hand on Steve’s shoulder as she leans forward to put his teacup on the table, removing his favorite chipped mug that’s still half-full of the vilest brewed coffee he’s ever tasted. Her gesture is meant to be a reminder that he’s gone without sleep for the last thirty-six hours and would be escorting her back to their room tonight, no matter what disaster befell the Earth. “Carry on, Dr. Foster.”

The door swings open and his master assassins enter the room as if they aren’t five hours past check-in. “We come bearing news of East Asia,” Clint sings out in way of greeting. “Did you miss us?”

“Of course we didn’t,” Tony answers, his expression flat behind his glasses. The scientist and the archer never quite see eye to eye about decorum in these informal meetings in SER Tower but it’s habit to meet here, even though both Stark Sr. and Erskine have been dead for over ten years. The two men had never taken the serum, preferring to age as nature intended even though some of their best creations were still as young and strong as the day they’d gone through the excruciating process.

Under the table, Steve reached out for Peggy’s hand. He couldn’t imagine going through life without her by his side. She’d been his rock and best friend for almost fifty years. They still had decades together, a fact which puts a smile on his face as he tries to concentrate on the information Clint’s running through as if it were a TV show from last night instead of intel he’d put his life on the line for.

He catches Natasha looking at him. The Russian is silent in these meetings, preferring not to speak unless spoken to. She’s much more chatty during the dinners she and Clint come to but she leaves most of the conversation for her partner to carry. He doesn’t know her well but is glad, every day, that Clint had convinced him to let her join their group. Now, she’s looking at him as if she’s searching for something she’s not sure will be there.

Steve doesn’t know why but he nods at her, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth up. She returns the gesture, her eyes blazing with happiness for the smallest of moments, before she turns back to watch Clint, her shoulders easing into the most relaxed position he’s ever seen her in.

“It seems someone has finally found a home,” Peggy whispers, for his ears only.

When Steve nods, tears clog in his throat for no apparent reason. He squeezes her hand tighter before settling back to chair the meeting once again. The world is in a constant state of flux and it’s up to his team to set it right, yet again.


End file.
